


Tadaima

by Dulin



Series: Welcome Home Arc [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Missing Scene, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dulin/pseuds/Dulin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vincent wakes Cloud up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tadaima

**Author's Note:**

> Between AC and DoC. Missing scene.
> 
> A/N : So, I was trying to write some Gundam Wing. See how well that worked.

Cloud wakes as soon as the door creaks open.

He’s only been back for a few hours. The ride back from Junon has been … eventful, to say the least. He didn’t expect a pack of tonberries so close to Edge, and he isn’t ashamed to admit he only fought hard enough to get an opening and then pushed Fenrir as hard as possible to get away. Or that he was rather glad that Denzel was waiting for him at the garage to carry his duffel.

Tifa shook her head when she saw him and all but pushed him in the shower. There was a sandwich and a cup of … something on his nightstand when he came back out after approximately thirty minutes of letting the hot water pound away the grit and aches. He took a few bites before crashing, just so she wouldn’t grumble about needing to force-feed him something afterwards.

Being exhausted doesn’t exactly work the same way it does for other people when you have heightened SOLDIER senses, though. Sure, you get to sleep, but something is always on alert. It’s difficult at the beginning, because you have to train yourself not to wake up at the slightest noise or smell. You have to learn to file certain things away as background noise, to filter them, so that you can rest.

But Cloud never seems to be able to filter Vincent. It’s not that Vincent is conspicuous, or even trying to attract his attention. He’s just … there. And the silence takes another quality when he is, and Cloud can’t just ignore it the way he can ignore the clinking of the glasses that Tifa is washing downstairs or Denzel and Marlene bickering the way siblings do.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even open his eyes. He doesn’t have to. He knows what is going to happen next. There will be some metallic clinks as Vincent undoes all of those damn buckles and zippers that his outfit is covered with. Then a rustle of clothes as he slithers out of it, and Cloud has to bite down on his bottom lip as the inside of his eyelids give him a very clear picture of it, the black leather opening to reveal the unnaturally pale skin and long limbs. A thunk as the holster and gun fall on the pile. And then the bed will dip slightly as Vincent crawls in and lies down behind him, spooning him.

Cloud counts the seconds between the sound of the first buckle and the moment where Vincent finally climbs into the bed. For one thing, it distracts him from the way the heat starts coiling in his belly. For another, it gives him an idea about Vincent’s state of mind. If things go fast, it means something happened to shake him up and he needs the reassurance. And today appears to be one of those days. Cloud’s barely reached thirty when he gasps at the first touch.

He won’t ask why Vincent is so needy today. He can smell the faintest trace of blood. Not human, not Vincent’s. Just something big enough that the gunman probably had to call on one of his Limit Breaks to finish it off. Cloud knows how much Vincent hates that, the loss of control, being taken over by something whose only instinct is to kill before it gets killed.

His breath hitches when Vincent’s tongue darts out to lick that place just behind his ear. Vincent is hard already, he can feel it against the curve of his spine, and he knows that if he moves a little, presses back into the cool body behind him, Vincent will let out that breathy moan, that sound of raw need.

They’ve never spoken about this. It’s like words would only make it more complicated, and Cloud has had enough of complicated for a lifetime. The only thing he cared about, in the beginning, was hurting Tifa’s feelings, and now she has made it clear that this isn’t an issue and pretty much given both of them her blessing, he’s decided to just stop pretending he can explain it rationally.

At least, it isn’t so embarrassing now to exchange some long-suffering, knowing looks with Cid whenever Vincent acts like the moody bastard he can be when the fancy strikes him.

Cloud takes a deep breath before slowly turning around in Vincent’s embrace. There’s always a moment of apprehension before he looks at Vincent’s eyes, because he’s never really sure who – what – is going to be looking back at him. Then again, he doesn’t usually get that much time to think about it before he finds himself kissed rather thoroughly, and this time is no different.

He stiffens a little as he feels the fangs in Vincent’s mouth. Now that doesn’t happen very often, and even if Vincent is careful, he just can’t help nipping at Cloud’s tongue. Not that Cloud minds, really. If anything, the taste of blood seems to make Vincent’s kiss more frantic and hurried. Cloud still manages to get enough of a look to see Vincent’s eyes are back to their usual red. Sure, the pupil is still slit like a cat’s, and the gaze is a little unfocused and hazy, but it’s still Vincent.

There’s something reassuring about the routine, about knowing what’s going to happen next. It makes it easier to pretend that he doesn’t need this as much as Vincent does.

He rolls on his back, letting Vincent climb on top of him and nip at his lips, his chin, his neck, and then down his chest. Distantly, he thinks he’s glad he decided not to put anything on after his shower. He is getting a little tired of replacing his underwear, all because Vincent’s approach to underwear is that no one should wear any, especially if it gets in the way of sex.

He tenses for a second as Vincent takes him in his mouth. Getting a blowjob from someone who has fangs does not necessarily strike him as a good idea, but the golden claw is holding his hips firmly in place and Vincent is purring, and he didn’t even know that a human throat could do things like that … At least Vincent doesn’t protest if he pulls on his hair a bit too hard.

He always stops at the last second. Cloud almost decked him the first time. It doesn’t matter if you’ve been through hell and back with a guy when said guy leaves you hanging like that. He knows better now, of course. And when Vincent finally opens himself up and allows Cloud to slide inside of him, Cloud doesn’t care if the fangs leave marks on his shoulder as Vincent tries to muffle a growl. He’ll just make sure to wear one of his high-collared sweaters for the next few days, because having to explain to the kids why Cloud and Uncle Cid had the same strange scratches, that was embarrassing, and he can do without a repeat of that particular conversation.

He grabs the headboard for a bit of leverage, but lets Vincent take the lead. Neither of them is going to last very long anyway.

***

Vincent doesn’t exactly sleep afterwards. It’s more of a black out, and it only lasts a few minutes. Cloud supposes he should feel flattered, in a way. It’s not often you can say that you are such a fantastic fuck your partner passes out when you’re done.

Of course, that would imply wanting to brag about it, which Cloud is way too shy to do. Now if only he could convince Cid to shut up about it as well … but Vincent never seems to mind when Cid mentions it. He just gets that far away look in his eyes, like the conversation has nothing to do with him. Or, even worse, he quips in and corrects Cid on just how long he blacked out that last time when they were in Junon, and then pretends he didn’t actually say anything.

The body by his side shivers, and Vincent’s eyes flutter open. They look fully human now, and the fangs are gone. Cloud sighs, and scrunches his nose at the sticky mess on his chest.

“You could have told me you were coming. Now I have to take another shower.”

Vincent blinks.

“I don’t have a phone.”

“… I know.”


End file.
